


I'll Meet You Right There

by macwritesthings



Series: What We Both Need [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominant Armie, First Time, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Sexting, Slow Burn, Submissive Timothée, Subspace, overuse of the term brat as a term of endearment, universe-compliant rules and language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwritesthings/pseuds/macwritesthings
Summary: They're moving into uncharted territory now, waters Timmy has never thought of breaching, never thought of even dipping his toes into, but the more time passes, the more he wants it, wants the collar around his neck, the knowledge that he belongs to someone, wants that someone to be Armie Hammer.





	1. I've Waited My Whole Life

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHAT IT'S ALMOST TIME!!!!! Anyways sorry this chapter is so short, I'm still dealing with family things (I have a very ill family member and it's taking up a lot of time) and am almost ready to leave for vacation, but I needed to get part four up before I left, because now things are gonna get INTERESTING!!!! There's so many things happening here, I don't even know how much you're all gonna hate me once this is over.
> 
> I love you guys a lot, thank you so much for the support, you're all my favorites.
> 
> I AM GOING TO BE ON HIATUS FROM JULY 5-JULY 14. I'm coming HOME the 14th so most likely new things will be posted slightly after that, but I just wanted y'all to know I'm not abandoning this at all. I've got soooo much in store for these two.

_Timothee_

It was nice, being wrapped in Armie’s things, wearing his pants, too long and cuffed at the ankles, the robe practically swallowing him, brushing against his ankles, enveloping him in warm softness with the lingering smell of Armie’s cologne. It was nice, watching him at the counter as he pulled various things out of the giant fridge taking up space in the kitchen, watching him move around it competently, hearing the smile in his voice when Timmy asked how he knew how to cook, the shrug of one shoulder that declared it no big deal while the pride in his voice belied that, and Timmy had a hunch half of that pride was the fact that he, as a submissive, was expressing pleasure that Armie, as his dom, could provide for him. It was a weird thing to recognize, even weirder to recognize that he was pleased by it, hugging the robe tighter around him as Armie shooed him out of the kitchen when he offered to help, flicking him on the nose and asking, mock-offended, if he didn’t think Armie could handle something as simple as _dinner_.

So Timmy had held his hands up in defeat, grinning a little when the robe slid down his arm and the bracelet was visible, noticed the way Armie’s eyes darted to it momentarily, and as he finally walked to the couch, he rolled the sleeves up a little, so that band of leather peeked out, reminding them both just who he belonged to (technically belonged to, nothing was formal yet, he reminded himself, but god he wanted it to be, physically aching to have Armie claim him, put that thin band of leather around his neck instead of his wrist, and it was so strange, this _want_ to have himself marked after he’d spent his whole life fighting against the _need_ society seemed to think existed for submissives to be marked, and he was still coming to terms with that, but maybe, he figured, the two thoughts could co-exist: maybe it didn’t need to have to be a _need_ , but could be a _choice_ , because wasn’t he choosing Armie? Wasn’t Armie choosing him?) and he settled on the couch, sketchpad in hand, lower lip caught between his teeth as he worked on the designs for Armie’s building, occasionally looking out at the snow falling in thick flakes outside the window, transforming the city into a glittering landscape from this high up.

He shifted after a moment, glanced over at Armie, who was humming something that sounded suspiciously like Vivaldi under his breath, and smiled, feeling safe. Feeling cherished. He rifled through his bag until he found his personal sketchbook, flipped past pages of old works, works in progress, and found a clean page, one eye on Armie as he worked, his profile coming to life on the page, studies in the lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones, the serious intensity of his eyes. Smaller drawings of his hands in the margins, strong, capable of taking Timmy apart or putting him back together, holding him and making him feel like he belonged, holding him and giving just enough of a tease that he felt like he was going to combust. 

He was a study in contradictions, Timmy realized, switching to a fresh page and starting again, and he realized he’d never, outside of his family and maybe one of his coaches, known a dom who so completely defied every stereotype laid on them by society while still managing to be completely in control, completely in charge, without being threatening or bullying their way into thing. He knew not all doms were like that, of course, he thought, smudging a shadow with the tip of one finger, but he’d met his fair share who were, so Armie? Armie was his own personal miracle. And god, that was sappy as fuck, he sounded ridiculous and like the teenager he wasn’t so far off from being, but there was just something _about_ Armie, and Timmy just….felt right about it.

He halted his drawing, watching Armie stand over the stove, legs spread slightly, shoulders broad under the soft shirt he’d changed into, muscles shifting under fabric as he moved, and he took a breath, making up his mind. He set the sketchpad aside, wiping his fingers off on a rag from his bag, before padding over to the kitchen again, wrapping his arms around Armie’s waist and pressing his forehead between his shoulder blades. He felt the rumble of Armie’s laugh vibrate through him, sighed at the sensation.

“Someone’s impatient,” Armie said, sounding amused, and he turned in Timmy’s arms so they were facing each other, cupping his face and leaning in to drop three kisses in succession to Timmy’s mouth, sweet, chaste, just enough to calm him down but not enough at the same time. Timmy smiled, leaning in to kiss him again when Armie pulled back, a soft, lingering press of their mouths, licking over his lower lip when he pulled away, and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“You said I could ask for things, right?” he sounded slightly more unsure than he wanted to, but Armie nodded, brushing his thumb over Timmy’s cheek.

“Anything, you can always ask for things. I reserve the right to say no, of course,” he said, smiling a little, “if you ask for something ridiculous, but you can always ask.”

Timmy took a deep breath, looking into those eyes, pools of ocean blue that warmed when he laughed and turned a deep, stormy sky-blue when he was aroused, turned into something akin to ice when he was upset about something, and saw the slightest hint of concern start to enter into them the longer Timmy was silent.

Just as Armie opened his mouth, presumably to ask if Timmy was okay, Timmy finally found the courage to ask. “I’d like to have sex with you,” he rushed out, watching those eyes widen in surprise, that storm coming into them only seconds later, intense on his face. “Please,” he added, twisting his fingers in the fabric of Armie’s shirt.

There was silence for so long Timmy was worried he’d crossed some sort of boundary, but he kept his ground, staring into those ocean-storm eyes, tipping his head back just a little, baring his neck, letting Armie know he was still in charge, Timmy was putting himself out there, being vulnerable, allowing himself to be vulnerable, and one of Armie’s hands drifted from his cheek down to his neck, resting lightly against the column of skin, thumb against his pulse point.

“Are you sure?” Armie asked, and Timmy blinked, because that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, he was expecting a no, expecting Armie to tell him they needed to wait, that they were rushing too many things, caught up in each other too intensely too fast, but he nodded, enjoying the press of Armie’s fingers around his neck, the feeling of something circling the skin there, and Armie studied him again for a long moment before reaching behind him and turning off the burners on the stove, trailing one hand down to lock around Timmy’s wrist, fingers covering the leather embossed with their names, heat radiating through his arm regardless of that barrier between them. Armie laughed then, the smallest chuckle, and lifted Timmy’s wrist, kissing under where the band of leather rested, Timmy’s pulse jumping.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” he said, then leaned in and kissed Timmy again, soft, achingly sweet, teeth dragging over his lower lip before soothing the slight sting of the bite with his tongue, bumping their noses together in a gesture so absurdly and unexpectedly sweet it made Timmy’s chest tighten, and Armie stepped back, pulling Timmy with him towards the stairs. “But you did ask nicely. And I seem unable to deny you any of the things you ask for.”


	2. I Get This Sweet Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie has never believed in love at first sight, but he’s believed there’s a person for everyone, and maybe, just maybe, Timmy is his person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I KNOW THIS IS SHORT BUT I WROTE IT ON MOBILE IT GOT DELETED TWICE IM MAD ABOUT IT BUT I WANTED TO POST IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS A LOT SO IM SORRY. This was gonna be an outtake, but it fits too well with the main storyline so here it is.

_Armie_

He hadn't expected that seeing Timmy in his clothes, his things, would affect him this much. The younger man wasn't much smaller than Armie himself, but there was a vulnerability to Timmy, something about him that was so much more delicate than Armie could ever be, the thin skin at his wrists, the gentle curve of his jaw, which was a contradiction because that was probably his strongest feature, but there was something about it that was just….delicate. Soft, under it all, those curls brushing against the hard line of his cheekbones and sweeping along the curve of his jaw, turning his face into something out of a Renaissance painting—an angel of some sort, ethereally beautiful, almost dangerously so, but still gentle under it all. 

Timmy was a maze of contradictions. Bratty and sarcastic, soft and submissive. Iron will and a no-nonsense attitude tempered with the ability to give himself over to Armie in the blink of an eye, mouth soft and open against his, limbs pliant in his hands, those eyes, glittering with humor most of the time, squinted half-closed in concentration the other half, going hooded and blurred, watching Armie and trusting him to take over. An entire forest in those eyes, hidden depths just waiting for him to discover them. 

God, he wanted nothing more than to discover everything about Timmy that there was to discover. Wanted to know everything about him, in every way—but especially the little things they hadn’t really talked about yet. What were his favorite movies, his favorite music, what didn’t he like on pizza. Armie knew all about his art, his process, or at least was getting there with it. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Timmy that the art was the reason he’d reached out—he’d planned on reaching out to the artist before he even knew Timmy was a submissive, much less an unbonded one. And after that first conversation in the coffee shop, he’d been gone. Falling already, and that was probably stupid, as this wasn’t a Disney movie and love at first sight wasn’t something he believed in, but fascination at first sight? Desire to know a person, to become part of their lives? That he believed in, absolutely. 

And he hadn’t been expecting this, he thought, fingers closed around the bracelet on Timmy’s wrist as he pulled him towards the stairs, Timmy coltishly stumbling after him until Armie slid his hand down Timmy’s wrist and linked their fingers, turning to him to kiss him again, taking a second to just take a breath. He hadn’t been expecting Timmy to ask for this yet (although he’d expected it would happen sooner rather than later) but he also hadn’t expected to say yes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, because he had made it pretty clear he wanted to, it was that he didn’t want to rush things, didn’t want this to turn into something cheapened by them rushing into sex, skimming over the important parts of each other. 

Then Timmy hummed against his mouth and relaxed against him, leaning in, his fingers tight in Armie’s grip, and Armie felt himself relax, settle into the familiarity of this, even though he wanted this to be nothing like it had been with anyone else. He wasn’t really expecting to be with anyone else after Timmy, but he didn’t want to compare this to any of those times. And so thinking, he pulled back, cupping Timmy’s face with his free hand, studying him. Those green eyes smiled up at him, forest calm and serene, clear and gazing at him steadily, waiting patiently for him to take charge. That gaze, the steady, trusting gaze, settled it. He kissed Timmy’s nose, his cheeks, felt him smile under his mouth as he reached his lips, lingering over it until Timmy arched up to get closer, hands gripping Armie’s shirt, and then he gentled the kiss, pulling back and tugging Timmy’s hand gently, watching him closely as they ascended the stairs. 

Instead of turning left, as he usually would have when he was with subs, going into the smaller master suite he used with subs, he turned for his room, knowing this wasn’t going to happen anywhere where he’d been with anyone else, knowing immediately he was replacing that bed, everything in that room, changing it into a different space at the first opportunity, because it wasn’t ever going to be used again. He’d never slept with a sub in his own space, including just sleeping, as he and Timmy had done earlier in the day, and he wasn’t going to fuck him for the first time in a space where so many temporary bodies had been. 

Because there was nothing temporary about Timmy, and maybe there wasn’t ever going to be anything temporary about him, maybe this was where they’d been heading from the very beginning, this route, this room, this place together. Maybe Timmy always was meant to end up with him, and him with Timmy. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he believed two people could know each other, know they were meant for each other, and as he pulled Timmy into his room, watched him smile a little shy, teeth catching his lower lip, Armie was positive this was where he’d been heading his whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweetteatimmychalamet on tumblr come yell at me and stuff


	3. Begging Just to Know Ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://78.media.tumblr.com/adc15505a5890005c03fb721b9cbdac4/tumblr_inline_pc2bl97Xi91tihs9w_1280.gif
> 
> (yes that is the summary copy and paste it you won't be disappointed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO LISTEN there has been so much build up to this i was worried i wouldn't do it justice so the perspective here is weird and changes a little but like. this was how it came into my head so uhhh here we are kids HERE WE ARE KIDS

_Timothee_

He’d thought about how his first time would go--what person hadn’t, he supposed. But as a submissive, he didn’t really have any idea of how it would _truly_ go. The movies always showed subs swooning at the feet of their dominants, turning into pliant little dolls, the romance novels truly not much better, describing the submissive love interests as though they were incapable of making any decisions once they saw their dominants without a shirt on, as though the sight of pectoral muscles were enough to send a submissive into a fainting spell or something equally ridiculous.

He had hoped it would be with someone who might treat him a little like an equal, or at least someone who would recognize that subs and doms were supposed to work together, that they were two halves of one whole, in all honesty, and even though he hated that, he recognized that there were instances where recognizing it was important. And sex, he figured, was the most important place. It was about trust, right, he thought, following Armie up the stairs, fingers linked in his, thrumming pleasantly from the knowledge of what was about to happen, from the kisses sprinkled over his face moments before, from the way Armie turned and drew him in when they reached his room, nuzzling behind his ear, beard scratching and making Timmy laugh.

It was about trust, about the absolute knowledge that your partner knew how far to push or not push, knew when to stop even if there was no safeword given, knew how to read and respond to the signals that the partner was giving off, it was about making sure each person was taken care of. Because Timmy wasn’t stupid, he’d heard his sister and her dom friends talking about how caring for submissives was, in a way, helping them as doms feel taken care of--the knowledge that they could do that for someone else was relaxing, reassuring. And he hadn’t ever thought of it like that until Pauline had phrased it that way, but he could tell, from the way Armie was holding him, trailing kisses along his jaw until he tipped his head back, one hand tangling in his curls and the other sliding down to palm at his lower back, that he was seeking reassurance, seeking out the knowledge that Timmy felt safe, felt taken care of, and he let his hands come up, thread through the short strands of Armie’s hair, pressing his face into the crook of Armie’s neck.

He pressed closer, not wanting to break the delicate web that had been woven over them from the moment they stepped into the room by speaking, not wanting to destroy the moment, the fact that Armie was now studying him, those ocean eyes intent on his, watching Timmy as he traced over Armie’s cheek, over his beard, fingers dancing across his mouth hesitantly, because this was new territory, he hadn’t ever done this although Armie had done it to him. He wasn’t sure if there was a line here he was going to cross, but by the slow way Armie was dragging his knuckles over Timmy’s spine through the robe, he figured there wasn’t anything he could do now that Armie would disagree with.

They studied each other again for another long moment before moving forwards, Timmy’s head tipping up as Armie’s came down, mouths slotting together and Timmy clutching Armie’s shirt in his hands, Armie’s own hands splayed over Timmy’s back, his waist, bringing them together in a tangle of limbs and heat radiating through robes and pants and shared shirts, and as Armie shifted to push the robe off Timmy’s shoulders, he literally felt his head swim, felt like he was on fire every place Armie touched him.

He didn’t swoon, didn’t have a fainting spell or go into some trance like the books and movies showed.

This is how it went instead:

Armie, tracing his tongue over Timmy’s collarbone as he lifted his shirt over his head, fingers tickling down his sides, over his ribs, tracing the faint outline of muscle over his stomach, hooking into the waistband of the borrowed pants, Timmy’s breath catching in his throat.

Timmy, holding onto Armie’s shoulders once he was naked, shivering against him as large hands mapped out a path of the freckles on his ribs, over his thighs, fingers tracing lightly over his cock, making it jump and drip precum, Timmy shaking apart in Armie’s hands before they’d begun.

The heat of Armie’s chest pressed against his when he laid him on the bed, Timmy’s fingers eagerly mapping bare skin, pressing kisses against broad shoulders dusted with fine blonde hairs that he gasped into when Armie traced over the curve of his ass, hooking Timmy’s legs around his waist, fingers venturing lower.

The small, broken sounds Timmy whimpered out when Armie’s got him on his stomach, open-mouthed kisses trailing wetly down his spine as Armie spread his legs, circled cold, slick fingers around that most intimate part of him, teasing him until Timmy spread his legs as wide as they could go, begging wordlessly for Armie to continue, to do _something_.

Armie watching as one, then two, then three of his fingers disappeared inside Timmy’s body, watching as the lithe frame beneath him twisted into the sheets, fingers gripping the pillows, the blankets, hips thrusting back against his fingers after the initial shock of being touched, Timmy pushing up on his hands and knees shakily after long moments of Armie rubbing his prostate, curls caught, sweat-damp on his forehead, desperate, clear eyes blinking over his shoulder in a silent plea.

Timmy, falling onto his back and holding out his arms, greedily tugging Armie down to kiss him as he felt Armie’s cock nudge against him, hiss caught against Armie’s mouth as he pressed in, the moans swallowed, his air stolen from small, repetitive kisses against his mouth and throat, Timmy’s fingers seeking out Armie’s, their hands lacing together next to Timmy’s head, the hitch of Timmy’s hips once Armie was sheathed, the line of his throat as he arched his head back, eyes fluttering closed.

The whispers passed between them, Armie telling Timmy he was being so good, looked fucking perfect, Timmy pleading for more, short wordless gasps instead of words as he got closer, the slickness of Armie’s hand as he wrapped it around Timmy’s cock, the way Timmy arched into him as he came, stuttering out Armie’s name over and over and over.

Armie pressing his forehead to Timmy’s neck as he came, fingers tightening where they were still linked through Timm’s, teeth setting in the curve of his shoulder, the full-body shudder Timmy gave at the contact, head lolling back on the pillow.

Both of them, breathless and turned towards each other, Timmy wincing when Armie pulled out, hands still linked between them, Armie brushing his free hand through Timmy’s hair, combing out the tangles, Timmy’s eyes closed, half-asleep already, small smile tugging at his mouth each time Armie kissed his fingers in apology when he caught a tangle of hair, tugging involuntarily.

The soft beat of their hearts, in time, though neither of them noticed it.


	4. I've Been Saving This For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe freaking out a little, he admitted, but not over the fact that he wanted to keep Timmy, wanted to be bonded to him, more worried that Timmy would say no, for some reason, would change his mind and decide this wasn’t what he wanted after all. Now that he realized how much he wanted Timmy, how much he cared, losing him seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically not the "morning after" because this takes place like thirty minutes later BUT STILL !!!! thank you all so so much for your comments and constructive criticisms and for reading this <3333

_Armie_

They were tangled together, Timmy’s head on Armie’s shoulder, his eyes closed, breathing evening out the longer they laid still, the longer Armie played with his hair, soothing him, keeping contact. They hadn’t done anything to push Timmy into subspace this time, purposefully, but Armie had seen it, had seen the way Timmy’s eyes blurred when he’d pressed inside him, the way his eyes got hooded and faraway when their fingers had linked near his head, and if he was being honest, he’d done that on purpose--he’d wanted this to be as gentle as possible, as equal as possible between the two of them, but his boy was nothing if not receptive. And the small grounding he was able to give Timmy, holding their linked hands by his head, other hand steady on his hip, holding him in place--while he didn’t think Timmy had gone truly deep into subspace, he was tipping over the edge enough to need something.

And anything Timmy needed, Armie was prepared to give him.

He watched him as he drifted into sleep, his breaths finally evening out completely, fingers lax in Armie’s, mouth soft in sleep, his curls a wild tangle against his cheeks and neck, face pressed into Armie’s neck. Armie had one leg draped over Timmy’s waist, their hands pressed between their chests, his free arm finally stilling in Timmy’s hair and coming to rest on his back, rubbing absent patterns with his fingertips over the planes of his shoulders, the bumps of his spine. Maybe it was a little weird of him to just watch Timmy sleep, but this had been a lot, for him, and he wanted to make sure he was okay.

It was up to him to make _sure_ Timmy was okay.

And that wasn’t a surprising thought, really--he’d had enough subs to know that they could fall asleep after intense scenes, knew how to take care of them, knew it was instinctual to _want_ to take care of them, but what was surprising was the possessiveness that came with it, the intense rush of emotions that wanted to hold Timmy down, mark him until the world knew he was claimed, until the world knew who he belonged to, and even though they were going down this road, Armie hadn’t talked about it with Timmy, really, aside from signing the contract, working some things out, but he was struck with how much he _wanted_. Wanted to keep Timmy here, wanted him to move in, wanted to put the band around his neck that signified that he belonged to someone, _with_ someone, wanted to keep finding out what made him tick, what made him fall apart, what made him laugh or cry or get angry. Wanted to watch him work, those gorgeous fingers moving over canvas and paper, bringing fantastic scenes to life.

Wanted to be able to watch people watch him and know that they were envious of _him_ , because he got to be the one to take Timmy home, to see that gorgeous, crooked smile first thing in the morning, the adoration in those alluring forest eyes, got to kiss him over coffee and wrap him up at night and keep him close, and this was, he thought, taking a breath, the most terrifying line of thought he’d ever had, and somehow he was….not freaking out about it. Maybe freaking out a little, he admitted, but not over the fact that he wanted to keep Timmy, wanted to be bonded to him, more worried that Timmy would say no, for some reason, would change his mind and decide this wasn’t what he wanted after all. Now that he realized how much he wanted Timmy, how much he cared, losing him seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen. He shifted, pulling Timmy closer to him, tugging the blankets up farther over them as they cooled down, making sure he didn’t get cold in sleep. Watched the snow falling, thick blankets of it layering the city. Studied the freckles across the slope of Timmy’s cheek and down his jaw.

When Timmy stirred, nuzzling against Armie’s neck before blinking open sleepy eyes, out of focus for the first few moments before latching onto Armie’s, that smile blooming, lower lip caught between Timmy’s teeth as though he felt he needed to hold it back, Armie felt something in his chest literally stutter to a stop for a moment, his entire being just _lurching_ off-center for a moment before he was leaning down, cupping Timmy’s cheek and kissing him slowly, teasing his lip out from between his teeth and sliding his tongue over the indentations in the skin, behind his teeth, over the roof of his mouth, swallowing the small sighs and whimpers escaping Timmy’s mouth.

When he pulled back, Timmy’s eyes were out of focus again, but he blinked, shaking his head, and narrowed them at Armie, poking him in the chest with two fingers. “That was a very nice wake up, but now you just look smug,” he said, trying to sound stern and failing, and Armie grinned at him, wrapped both arms around him and nuzzled his jaw, kissing over the freckles, making Timmy hum and tip his head back, sighing softly. “You know what? Look smug all you want, this is seriously working for me,” he said, voice a little strangled, and Armie bit the curve of his jaw before drawing back, studying him. Timmy just smiled and looked back up at him, one arm wiggling out from between them to wrap around Armie’s neck, playing with the short hairs at the base of his neck.

“I’ll get back to it in a minute. You feeling okay?” he asked, smoothing errant curls off Timmy’s forehead, watching as Timmy considered, shifting his hips against the bed, and he caught the small wince as he did so.

“I feel amazing,” Timmy said, trailing his fingers over Armie’s jaw, “but a little sore. Not in a bad way,” he added quickly, rubbing his fingers over Armie’s beard, leaning in to kiss where they’d been, mouth pressing against his cheek. “It’s just….an unusual feeling, so it’s a little sore.”

Armie nodded, tipping his head to catch Timmy’s mouth again, shifting them so they were on their sides and he could run one hand down Timmy’s back, resting it lightly over the curve of his ass, and Timmy sighed, wiggling closer, half-hard against Armie’s hip. “That’s to be expected,” he said, trailing his fingers lower, idly tracing patterns but keeping his attention on Timmy, the way his breath hitched a little again, and he stopped, resting his hand on the small of Timmy’s back instead. “It should get better over the next couple of hours.” Timmy turned accusatory eyes on him, narrowing them again.

“You’re starting things you don’t mean to finish, aren’t you?” he asked, and Armie smiled at him.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, tone all innocence, and Timmy slapped at his chest, laughing when Armie caught his hand and bit his fingertips.

“You’re an _ass_ ,” he informed Armie, who rolled them over so Timmy was on top of him, kissing his jaw and his neck, reveling in the way Timmy huffed out a laugh, wiggled closer to him and looped his arms around him the best he could, turning to meet kisses halfway, without finesse of any sort but enthusiastic in it, and after a minute Armie gentled them, kissing Timmy lightly and pulling back, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

He looked happy, Armie thought, smile catching the corner of his mouth as he mirrored Armie’s movements, brushing at his hair and then nestling down, head on his chest, fingers tracing over Armie’s collarbone, and Armie wrapped his arms around him, holding on.

They were quiet for a few minutes, heads tipped towards the windows, watching the snow swirl in the streetlights, and then Armie took a breath. “It’s December 4th,” he said, and he felt Timmy tense just a little on top of him, then nod, but there was no answer, so he continued. “That gives us just about three weeks, but I was thinking….why should we wait?” He paused, letting the words sink in, and he felt the moment Timmy realized what he meant, scrambling to push up off Armie’s chest, his head nearly knocking against his chin when he did so, and when Armie blinked up at him after the rush of movement, he saw Timmy’s face completely open, vulnerable, unguarded hope and adoration etched across his features, lower lip caught in his teeth again. Moved, his own emotions rushing inside him, he cupped Timmy’s jaw, rubbed his thumb over his lower lip until it was released from Timmy’s teeth. 

“Are you….” Timmy trailed off, swallowing hard, and Armie caught the slight sheen of tears. He smiled, shifting and adjusting them so they were sitting up facing each other, blankets caught around their waists, cupped Timmy’s jaw in both hands and kissed him again, softly.

“Yes, I am. But just so you don’t misunderstand me: I’m asking you to be bonded to me. Permanently. To have no one else but me, to commit to me as I will commit to you.” The words were formal, official, and Armie could have done it another way, could have used his own, but he felt like the official words were _right_ , were the ones he needed to use in this moment, the ones Timmy needed to hear, that Timmy needed to know he was serious about this, about wanting him and not wanting anyone else, ever.

It was worth using the words, because Timmy smiled, hugely, tackling Armie down on the bed and peppering his face with kisses, holding him tightly around the neck, the warmth of the leather band around his wrist pressing against Armie’s neck, breathless “yes, yes, yes” escaping Timmy between each kiss, and Armie closed his eyes and held on.


	5. We'll Ride the Rollercoaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AN UPDATE!!! EMOTIONS!!! FEELINGS!!!! 
> 
> THE BEGINNING OF THE END!!!!! (no i'm kidding that's not happening here.)
> 
> many many thanks to cookie for the beta work and it is because of her that this is polished and makes sense and is aLL IN THE SAME TENSE <3

_Timothee_

He was wrapped in Armie’s robe again, the fabric soft, warm where he rubbed the sleeve against his cheek. The snowstorm had intensified, and as they lay in the bed together after Armie asked him to be _bonded_ to him, to wear his collar, to belong to no one but him, Timmy had finally fallen still from kissing every inch of Armie he could reach and burrowed into his arms instead, pressing his face into Armie’s neck and holding on, cherishing the feeling of Armie’s hands resting on his waist, their synchronized breathing. Watching the snow swirl outside the window, landing on buildings nearby, Armie quietly commented that maybe Timmy should stay the night, he’d just beamed and snuggled closer, a silent agreement.

He’d almost fallen back asleep before Armie nudged him up, kissed him softly, and told him that dinner was still half done on the stove. Timmy had blushed a little, smiling sheepishly until Armie pinned him to the bed and kissed him breathless, telling him that he didn’t regret for one second if dinner had been ruined because it was worth it. Feeling Armie on top of him--holding him down, hips pressing his own into the mattress, one hand pinning his arms over his head--had Timmy’s eyes fluttering shut, everything in his head turning into soft, cotton clouds. He heard the rumble of Armie’s laugh and the scrape of his beard as he kissed the side of Timmy’s neck, scooping him up, naked, into his arms and carrying him to the closet, Timmy clinging to him, nuzzling into his neck and shivering in the cold.

Armie bundled him up in one of his robes and carried him downstairs, murmuring to him the whole time, before depositing him on the couch and touching his cheek gently. When Timmy’s eyes blinked open, Armie smiled at him, asked him for a color. _Green,_ Timmy said, reaching out and grabbing Armie’s fingers. _Verde, vert,_ and Armie laughed, kissed him again, declared him a brat, which just made Timmy shiver and snuggle deeper into the robe and the blanket Armie tucked around him. He watched Armie cook over the back of the couch, blessing the open concept of his apartment, the fact that he could see him from where he’d been thoroughly tucked in. He could stay warm and sort of floating inside his own head, finally able to process what had just happened, and yet he could still see Armie.

He felt safe, surrounded, secure. Warm and cherished and something maybe close to loved, but he wasn’t ready to go there, not quite yet. It hadn’t been long enough for that, but there were definitely emotions there. The want to be claimed, that was a new one, one he wasn’t entirely sure about. His whole life he’d been fighting against the _need_ of submissives to be claimed, but now that he _wanted_ it, he wondered how much of that was him fighting against the system that told submissives they _had_ to be claimed and how much of it was his own internalized emotions, terrified of being bonded to someone without a choice, without any autonomy of his own. Armie was different, and he knew that, and maybe that was part of why he wasn’t as scared any longer, why he was alright with what was going to happen. Part of it, of course, was the fact that Armie treated him like an equal, but he also knew when Timmy needed _more_. He knew just where the lines were and when to switch between being dominant and not, when Timmy needed casual dominance versus more traditional (although they hadn’t ventured very far into that yet, he knew that it would be something Armie was good at because, well, Armie was good at everything). 

He knew when Armie was calling him a brat out of affection and when he was doing it because Timmy was _being_ a brat. He knew that Armie knew the difference between Timmy trying to get a rise out of him and doing it on accident. He knew every expression in those ocean eyes, what it felt like to have those hands on him--how they felt tracing over his ribs, down his thighs, teasing over the head of his cock, pressing inside him with aching slowness.

He shifted on the couch, growing hard under the robe, and felt himself flushing a little. Was he really so insatiable that he couldn’t wait until they finished dinner to try to get his hands back on Armie?

Well, yes, he was, but who could blame him? Anyone who had Armie Hammer at their disposal and knew what he _felt_ like would be having the exact same reaction as Timmy in this moment, and no one could lie and tell him differently.

He shifted farther into the blanket, burrowing under it, just his eyes and top of his head peeking out. He watched the snowstorm, listening to the soft music Armie had put on in the background, his whole body relaxing into the couch, eyelids fluttering closed as he felt his breathing even out, relaxing into the softest form of subspace, and he thought for a moment he should be worried it was happening. But Armie was close by. And Armie would take care of him. He let his eyes close, let himself drift off to sleep, knowing Armie would wake him when it was time to eat.

\------------

_Armie_

He watched Timmy sleep on the couch, nestled inside the blanket he’d draped over him after he’d brought him downstairs, curls peeking out over the top, face slack in sleep, his fingers just barely visible curling around the edges of the blanket. He hated to wake him, but he knew that eating after subspace, no matter how mild it was, was important. And if Timmy had fallen asleep again, clearly he needed it. It worried Armie a little, the fact that Timmy was still so susceptible to subspace, but at the same time it thrilled some darker, deeply hidden part of him, the part that wanted to completely _wreck_ Timmy, take him apart and push him to his limits and watch him be completely taken over by that sweet, soft space where everything was golden and nothing was important except sensation and how he felt, how Armie made him feel.

Tamping that back down for the moment, he settled on the edge of the couch, brushing Timmy’s curls out of his face, smiling when Timmy nuzzled into his hand a little in sleep, and he cupped Timmy’s cheek, brushing his thumb over Timmy’s lower lip before sliding his hand down over Timmy’s jaw. He nudged the blanket out of the way and studied the pale expanse of Timmy’s throat, brushing his fingers over it lightly. He’d asked Timmy to be bonded to him, and he’d meant it, every fucking word of it. But thinking about it now, thinking about the reality of how, in a matter of days, Timmy would have a slim collar around that lovely expanse of skin, would wear Armie’s mark for the entire world to see, would be _claimed_ by him…..

Well. It was more of a turn on than he ever really admitted to himself before, and apparently it was something he didn’t realize he could be turned on by in the first place. He never felt the need, with any other sub, to collar them, to _mark_. He stuck to short-term contracts because he didn’t need anything more than that, didn’t need a commitment or someone in his space, didn’t want that. And then he’d seen the work of a talented artist in a gallery, been gripped by the throat by the beauty of it. The sheer emotion had flown off the canvas, and he’d had to talk to that person.

It was just his luck, he thought, Timmy stirring under his fingers, that the artist was a bratty, sarcastic, lovely submissive with the most expressive face he’d ever come across, who wore his emotions on his sleeve, spoke his mind without fear of the consequences, told Armie when he was being an idiot, kept him on his toes. Just his luck that the submissive, mouthy kid who created such stunning things actually was interested in him _in return_ , wanted to submit to him willingly. That was more erotic than any other sub who’d ever been on their knees. The fact that Timmy was stubborn about it, the fact that he was adamantly his own person and then turned into absolute putty in Armie’s hands if he praised him just right or asked nicely--that was more desirable than any other sub he’d ever had, docile and submissive at all times because they thought that’s what he wanted, what was expected of them.

He’d have traded every one of them in an instant to have met Timmy sooner, found this, whatever this was, sooner.

But maybe they weren’t supposed to meet sooner, he thought, smiling down as sleepy forest-green eyes blinked open and focused on him, still a little hooded from sleep and the lingering edges of subspace. Maybe he was supposed to find Timmy now. Maybe he wouldn’t have had that _knowing_ feeling if they’d met sooner. It was supposed to be now, and Timmy was supposed to be the person he did it with.

He didn’t know about love, he thought, leaning down to kiss Timmy softly and hum, pleased, against the tiny sigh of contentment that escaped Timmy’s lips as he did so, but there were definitely emotions blossoming here. And the bonding ceremony was only going to intensify them.

Surprisingly, he was looking forwards to it.


	6. Take a Second, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think it’s natural to freak out about this, _cherie_ ,” she replied, sitting next to him and rubbing circles over the back of his neck gently. “It’s a big change. You’re going to be bonded to someone, going to be moving out of the house. You’re going to be on your own, essentially, and even though we give you independence, you’ve still lived with us. This is you going out into the world and living on your own, a life that we won’t really have a part in. It can be terrifying for anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HAVE THREE THOUSAND WORDS OF.......WHATEVER THIS IS!! COLLAR SHOPPING!! FALLING MORE IN LOVE!!! GRETA AND SAOIRSE!!!!
> 
> I didn't have anyone beta this and I will probably regret that later but I wanted to get it up before I got insecure about it.

_Timothee_

His mom cried when he told her. He’d ended up staying the night at Armie’s, blushing red when he’d sent the text to his mom and Pauline letting them know and all he’d received in return had been a string of _GET IT_ from Pauline and a warning about _condoms_ from his mother. He’d buried his face in Armie’s chest as the other man had laughed, hand petting through Timmy’s hair.

Of course, he hadn’t stopped the petting there, and then they’d ended up distracted, in Armie’s bed, so Timmy wasn’t going to complain about Armie laughing at the texts.

He had a week to tell everyone else before the official announcement printed, and he had to admit he was nervous about it. Armie had asked him about it, if he didn’t want one run, but Timmy had shook his head, nestled under Armie’s arm. It was the right thing to do, and he was famous enough in his own right that appearing with a collar on would spark conversations, especially since he was vocal about submissive’s rights. He was mostly nervous about how people would perceive him once he was collared, what they would think, if they would think he was weak, somehow giving up on the cause. When he voiced his concerns to Armie, voice muffled from where his face was pressed in Armie’s sweater, Armie tangled his fingers in Timmy’s curls, tugging gently.

“No one is going to think less of you,” he said, keeping his tone soothing, talking to Timmy as though he were some sort of spooked animal (which was what he felt like in that moment). “No one is going to look at you, of all people, and everything you’ve done and will continue to do, and think that you’re giving up on the cause. Besides, it’s not like you’re exactly shacking up with some traditionalist, you know.” Armie tugged his head back, smiled down when Timmy’s eyes flicked up to him. “I’ve been known to get upset about submissive’s rights, hold charity balls for non-profits supporting the cause….” He laughed when Timmy elbowed him and rolled his eyes.

“Okay, mister big shot,” Timmy said, poking him in the ribs and smiling when Armie grabbed his fingers, biting the tips of them playfully. “We get it, you have a fuckton of money. And I know you’re not some traditionalist asshole. They should all know that, too, whoever they are,” he added, gesturing vaguely. “I’m still nervous.”

Armie grinned at him, leaning over him and nosing at the hollow of his throat. “Maybe I can distract you,” he said, voice low in Timmy’s ears, and Timmy shuddered, letting his head fall back.

\------------

Nine days after Armie asked him to be bonded to him, they officially signed the papers and filed for a bonding contract, and the article came out. Timmy read it in the morning paper when Pauline handed it to him, pointing out the small blurb:

_Armand Hammer, thirty-three, CEO of Hammer Enterprises and registered Dominant, is pleased to announce the impending bonding ceremony with his chosen Submissive, up-and-coming artist Timothee Chalamet, twenty-four. Hammer and Chalamet met when Chalamet was commissioned to provide artwork for the New York offices of Hammer Enterprises. The ceremony will be private._

It was short enough, to the point, but it made his throat dry out, the cereal he’d been eating stick in it, so he pushed the bowl away, shoved the paper to the side. When his mom came over and rubbed the back of his neck, he sighed, resting his head in his arms on the table.

“Why am I freaking out about this?” he asked.

“I think it’s natural to freak out about this, _cherie_ ,” she replied, sitting next to him and rubbing circles over the back of his neck gently. “It’s a big change. You’re going to be bonded to someone, going to be moving out of the house. You’re going to be on your own, essentially, and even though we give you independence, you’ve still lived with us. This is you going out into the world and living on your own, a life that we won’t really have a part in. It can be terrifying for anyone.” Timmy nodded into his arms, sniffling a little. He knew she was right--a large part of what he was freaking out about was the fact that he was moving away from home, that he wouldn’t have the comfort of the well-known any longer. He’d be in an entirely new place with someone he liked, yes, but not someone he’d ever lived with before. Staying the night three times hardly counted as _anything_ , and to go from living totally separate to being legally required to live together was….well, terrifying.

When he went into the offices to meet Armie after work that day, Armie frowned when he walked into the office. “What’s wrong?”

Timmy shrugged, unwinding his scarf and pulling it off, absently twisting it around his hands. “Nothing. I mean, something, but it’s….nothing. It feels like it should be nothing? Fuck.” He dropped the scarf on a chair, pacing back and forth, Armie just watching him patiently from near his desk, and Timmy finally came to a stop, arms gesturing in a broad circle. “What if you hate living with me?” It wasn’t what he meant to have come out, but it did, and he couldn’t take it back now that it was out there.

“What do you mean?” Armie asked, and Timmy noticed he was keeping his tone carefully neutral, face almost blank, just waiting for him to get this out of his system before Armie decided how to deal with it, and that just made Timmy more anxious.

“I mean. What if you hate living with me? What if you think I’m too messy or I get too in my head when I’m working and ignore you or I’m not good at belonging to someone, what if I lose some sort of sense of who I am because I think I have to behave a certain way now that we’re bonded or something, what if this thing with me being too far in my head keeps happening and I fuck this all up? What if you hate the fact that you have to rearrange your whole penthouse just to accommodate me, or--”

He was cut off when Armie crossed the room, gripped his shoulders in broad hands, and kissed him, effectively silencing his rambling. He immediately leaned into the kiss, hands moving up to grip Armie’s collar, his tie, tugging him closer and gasping into his mouth when Armie bit his lower lip. He felt one of Armie’s hands grip his hair, tug just enough that the sensation made Timmy whimper, made his limbs feel unsteady. When Armie eased back, Timmy blinked blurred eyes up at him, his breathing a little ragged.

“Listen to me, Timmy. Are you listening?” Armie waited for him to nod, then continued. “I love that you get lost in your work. I love watching your face as you concentrate, and I don’t mind waiting for you to resurface. If you’re messy, we’ll work that out. If you lose that inherent brattiness, I’ll just poke at you until it snaps back out again. That penthouse needs some shaking up, it’s been that way since I bought it almost ten years ago, and it could use a new look. I had already started planning what room to use as your studio the day after we signed the courtship contract. I was planning on you being there from that moment. You’re not a nuisance or putting me out somehow or anything, alright? And if you keep getting in your head, then I’ll be here to help you get out of it.” He gentled his hands while he was talking, hand carding through Timmy’s curls, twining them around his fingers before letting go and smoothing them back down again, and Timmy blinked up at him.

“We signed that courtship contract almost a month ago,” he said, because that was the first thing he thought of, the first thing that popped into his head, the thing he’d latched onto, and Armie nodded.

“We did. I was serious when we signed it--I think you’re amazing. Wonderful. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be bonded to, and I’m glad it’s you and that it’s happening now. There is nothing about this I regret.”

Timmy just stared at him, the words swirling around in his brain, contentment being replaced with something sharper, more heady, something that felt….just so much more than anything he’d ever felt for anyone, and he surged forwards, kissing Armie hard, smiling against the other man’s mouth when Armie’s arms banded around him tightly.

“It’s really a shame this is your office, because I really want you to fuck me,” he said, yelping when Armie pinched his ass, laugh bubbling out after it.

“You’re such a goddamn _brat_ ,” Armie said, bringing one hand up to cup Timmy’s cheek, ocean eyes stormy on his. “You know I can’t even take you up on that because we have somewhere to be.” When Timmy fluttered his eyelashes, Armie narrowed his eyes. “You’re getting punished for that later.”

“Promise?” Timmy countered, tone all innocence, whimpering when Armie reached down and palmed his cock through his jeans, leaning into the touch. Armie squeezed, making Timmy’s eyes roll back in his head, and he felt Armie’s lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“Maybe I’ll get a cock cage for you, and then you’ll _have_ to be a good boy for me,” Armie murmured, and Timmy swayed into him, clutching his shirt with suddenly clammy hands. “Would you like that, baby?” Timmy nodded, and Armie kissed him, released his cock and picked up his scarf. Winding it around his neck, he kissed Timmy’s nose, tucked the ends of the scarf into his coat. “Ready to go look at collars?”

Timmy actually _felt_ the blood rush to his dick at that, and he nodded, slipping his hand into Armie’s. “Yes, sir.”

He grinned when Armie’s hand tightened on his. “Brat.”

\------------

Timmy hadn’t ever been inside one of the city’s many stores for submissive’s collars and bracelets before--he hadn’t ever seen the point. His mom supplied him with the bracelets as he grew, and Armie had brought him the bracelet when he was being courted. A submissive in the shop alone usually meant they were daydreaming about their future dominant, and Timmy hadn’t ever been that person, hadn’t ever wanted to wear a collar until Armie.

And if he were being honest with himself, the idea of entering one without a dominant present scared him a little, because he knew doms lingered near them, looking for those daydreaming subs. Looking for someone who was desperate to be claimed, someone they could easily sweep off their feet and control. It was creepy, and scary, and he didn’t like it. 

The shop Armie took him to, though, was on the Upper East Side, with an armed guard outside and not-so-subtle security cameras tucked in every corner of the room. Timmy’s hand tightened on Armie’s as soon as they walked in, through the metal detector, into a lushly carpeted room, full of subtle lighting and display upon display of collars. Metal, leather, and beaded collars all sat on mannequins of varying genders and races, some on slowly spinning pedestals, others draped over velvet holders underneath gleaming glass counters. He heard the soft sound of classical music being piped in and saw a submissive in front of a three-way mirror, holding her hair up from her neck as she turned, inspecting the collar draped around her neck, a salesperson and who he assumed was her domme behind her. 

It reeked of money, prestige, and traditionalism. He immediately felt uncomfortable. When he pressed closer to Armie’s side, the other man looked down at him, squeezing his hand. “It’s going to be fine, I promise,” Armie said, and Timmy studied his face, nodded. Relaxed a fraction because he knew Armie wouldn’t have brought him anywhere he would be unsafe.

When a salesman approached them, Timmy blinked a little in surprise, because a leather collar peeked out just above his shirt collar, the briefest hint of leather above his perfectly knotted tie. “Gentlemen, welcome,” he said, offering Armie his hand in the traditional greeting, waiting until Armie had traced fingers over his palm to offer his hand to Timmy to shake, and Timmy gripped it, shaking once. “It is Armie, correct? We were told you were coming, and we have the selections you were interested over here,” he gestured, and Armie fell into step behind him, Timmy following, making sure to stay close. 

Armie nudged him towards a chair, and Timmy sat, Armie sitting next to him at the small table fashioned to look like a vanity, with a mirror on one side and a collection of collars on their velvet displays already laid out. As the salesman began to detail each collar, Timmy tuned him out and just looked at the ones laid out--a thin cord of silver, looped at the front with a diamond nestled in the loop. Braided leather with a small silver clasp at the back. A high, stiff leather collar with a heart-shaped ring at the front. Another small, silver chain with a simple circular pendant hanging from it. A traditional leather collar, D-ring at the front, buckle at the back. A band of what looked like hammered copper, and another leather collar that, in the front, had the leather replaced with a diamond choker and pendant hanging down. When Armie touched his shoulder, Timmy jumped, then flushed.

“I’m sorry, I was….” he gestured at them all vaguely, embarrassed at how turned on he was, looking at all of them, imagining Armie picturing him in these, because he knew that he’d been what Armie was thinking about when he chose them, and that made him flush, and squirm. The salesman smiled at him knowingly, and Armie squeezed his shoulder.

“No need to apologize. I asked if you were particularly opposed to any of these, or there were any you favored?” Timmy let his eyes drift over them again, reaching out to touch the thin silver loop tentatively, the braided leather.

“I like these,” he said, and Armie leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I thought you might. You’re going to need more than two, though.” Timmy tipped his head back and blinked at him, which made Armie shrug. “I want you to have options,” he said, and Timmy rolled his eyes, making Armie swat the back of his head playfully and the salesman’s mouth thinned in disapproval.

It immediately put Timmy’s back up, and he looked back down at the collars, then up at Armie and shrugged. “I’m going to like whatever you get me,” he said, reaching up and linking his fingers with Armie’s briefly, smiling thinly at the salesman. “Even if he thinks you’re giving me too much leeway by letting me choose. Excuse me.” He pushed out of the chair, watching Armie turn to the salesman and frown, and wandered away, looking at the other displays, needing to just….take a breath and calm down.

He should be better behaved in public, he _knew_ that, but he didn’t think he’d done anything too scandalous. He’d merely questioned the choice of so _many_ , and he didn’t think that was so bad. He paused by a display of chain-link collars, reaching out and tracing his fingers over the cold metal of one.

“Nasty things, those, if they get caught in your hair,” a lilting voice said in his ear, and he started, turning and seeing the girl from the mirror smiling at him. “I’ve got one, and it got tangled in my hair. Took my domme thirty minutes to untangle it,” she added, gesturing to the other woman who’d been with her previously, who was now talking to their saleswoman. “I’m Saoirse,” she said, sticking out her hand.

Timmy took it and shook, amused. “I’m Timothee. Timmy for short.” Her eyes brightened.

“The artist! Not that there’s very many with that fancy French name in New York,” she said, grinning when Timmy huffed out a laugh, “but I’ve seen your picture. We have one of your paintings, me and Greta--that’s my domme. It’s lovely. You’re very talented.”

Timmy grinned at her, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Thanks. Seriously, thank you. I saw the two of you when you came in, are you just bonded, or…?” Saoirse shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“We’ve been bonded about a year now, but she courted me for damn near two years before she got up the nerve to ask me to bond to her. I needed something for a party we’re going to in a few weeks, some big fancy shindig. Traditional,” she added quietly, rolling her eyes, and Timmy immediately felt more at ease. “So here we are. And it’s a small world at that, because she works at your Armie’s building. She’s security.”

Timmy glanced over at the petite blonde, who couldn’t have topped five foot eight, and raised one eyebrow. “She looks like she weighs about one hundred pounds,” he said, and Saoirse grinned.

“Oh, she’s small, but she’ll kick someone’s arse,” she said cheerfully, her smile widening when Greta walked over with a small bag, linking their arms together. “Look who I found! Timothee, he’s the artist who painted that lovely forest we have in the dining room.”

Greta smiled at him, offering him her hand, and Timmy bit his lip, glancing at the salespeople, before offering her his hand, palm up. She studied him for a moment, then traced her fingers lightly over his palm. “I don’t hold with that nonsense, but I understand why you’d do it here,” she said, no trace of judgment in her tone. “It really is a lovely landscape. And I’ve seen hints of what you’ve been doing at the building, it’s just wonderful. Hello, Armie,” she tacked on, and Timmy peered over his shoulder to see Armie approaching them, hands empty.

“Greta,” he said, moving in to kiss her cheek before greeting Saoirse, running his fingers over her hand gently. “I see you’ve met Timmy.” He wrapped one arm around Timmy’s shoulders, and Timmy immediately felt more at ease, leaning into him and resting his head on Armie’s shoulder. “They’re sending the pieces I chose, so we can go whenever,” he said, curling one hand around the back of Timmy’s neck.

“We have met, yes, and he’s lovely,” Saoirse said, and Greta smiled down at her. 

“Would the two of you like to get dinner soon? To celebrate the ceremony?” Greta asked, and Armie looked down at Timmy, who nodded, smiling.

“We would love to. I have your information, I’ll email you when I get home and let you know what days work best?” As Armie and Greta chatted, Saoirse pulled her cellphone out of her purse, handing it to Timmy.

“Put your number in? It doesn’t seem like you have many friends,” she said as he began typing, and when he stopped and raised one eyebrow, she waved her hands and laughed. “I didn’t mean that in a mean way, I just meant that it seems like you keep to yourself a lot, which is fine. There is nothing wrong with that at all, but. It’s hard, you know, being connected to someone as affluent as Armie, and people are going to want to be your friend to get close to him, so. If you need a friend, you’ve got one in me.” Timmy studied her as he finished typing in his number before handing the phone back.

“You’re something else,” he said finally, and she shrugged, tapping out a text. “Not in a bad way, just….I’ve never met anyone who’s quite like you.”

His phone dinged with a text, and Saoirse tucked her phone back in her bag. “Now you have my number. And we need to introduce you to more people, then. Get you to a couple more protests, maybe.” She winked, then waved over her shoulder as Greta tugged on her arm and they exited.

Armie stood next to Timmy for a moment, tapping the top of his phone when Timmy pulled it out to save Saoirse’s number. “Make a new friend?” he asked, and Timmy huffed out a laugh.

“I honestly don’t know. I think so? But she’s so….much. Very high energy.”

“She is,” Armie said, linking their hands again and tugging Timmy out of the shop. “I’ve met her at office parties, and she’s really something else. But she’s a sweetheart--they both are--and they both have the same views you and I do, so she’d be a good friend to have.” Timmy smiled up at him outside, blinking against the snow that had begun to fall.

“Are you saying I need more friends?”

“No,” Armie laughed, pulling Timmy in to kiss him. “I’m saying she would be a good one. She’s an artist as well, you know. Sculpting. Works under a pseudonym, though, and won’t tell any of us but Greta what it is.”

Timmy felt his interest pique. “Seriously? Fuck, now I have to find out who she is.” Armie hummed and adjusted Timmy’s scarf, brushing snowflakes off his coat.

“Would you like to come over? We can get dinner and google potential sculptors Saoirse could be hiding behind and talk about the plans for your studio.”

Timmy felt his whole heart swell, and he smiled, covering Armie’s hand with his. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh as always feel free to cry with me on tumblr i am sweetteatimmychalamet and i love friends


End file.
